


The quiet

by shittershutter



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His screaming, thrashing demons choke on their useless noise, and the first time he ever notices it, he panics so badly. The first time Chibs kisses him, coming up to him like an avalanche of cheap tobacco and slightly better alcohol, his overly active brain finally shuts the fuck up, even if it is for a moment or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The quiet

The man moves around the house, clothes rustling. He hums the melody Juice doesn’t recognize, but he’s immediately relaxed by the sound of it. He’s too lazy to reach for his glasses, so he watches the blur of Chibs’ silhouette blending itself with the greenish wallpaper and dirty yellow light from the hallway. 

The strangest fucking thing happens when Chibs is around, especially like this, in private, with dirty socks and unfinished beer bottles around. Grim serenity descends upon Juice, and he starts to feel like many things he isn’t: like he’s rational, collected human-being. Like he’s in control. It’s merely a projection, he gets that. An illusion. The quiet, barely distinguishable power Chibs possesses so naturally -- the one he’s drawn to on a subconscious level, helpless to resist -- it rubs on him. 

His screaming, thrashing demons choke on their useless noise, and the first time he ever notices it, he panics so badly, his head suddenly too empty, like he forgets about something important to be stressed about. The first time Chibs kisses him, coming up to him like an avalanche of cheap tobacco and slightly better alcohol, his overly active brain finally shuts the fuck up for good and he just feels. Feels his world turning upside down, but there is no fear or unease about it. 

In this limbo, Juice can practically feel his daddy issues blossoming inside him, buds and flowers and shit. 

And while his court-mandated therapist tells him he should build adult relationships coming from an adult place, no scared boys in desperate need for love should be allowed there, he waves the advice goodbye the same way he leaves his pussy phase behind the moment Chibs steps into his personal space. 

Juice shakes himself awake and follows the man to the bathroom. He hops on the counter, smiling sheepishly instead of a greeting, and the man smiles back. 

Chibs is hurt, Juice can see it from his careful movements and his measured breath fogging the mirror as he washes his hands. He helps the man out of his kevlar, and when he’s free from his armour he leans on Juice, allowing the moment of exposed weakness, his body rigid and trembling. Juice mouths along the grey hair growing out, hands carefully around Chibs’ shoulders. 

“You hungry?” he asks, biting along the hairline a little. 

“Nah, ‘m good, Juicy. ‘m good.”

He holds Chibs against him, rocking, and waits for him to snap out of it like he knows he will. Chibs finally takes a deep breath and pushes his face even deeper into Juice’s neck to mouth along his throat. His hands slide down, pushing at Juice’s boxers. 

Juice rubs his mouth against Chibs’ knuckles, bloody crust sharp against his lips. He whimpers when Chibs pushes two fingers inside his mouth. Trimmed fingernails scratch his tongue, and he sucks at them like he would suck on man’s dick, tongue flickering against the length, lips tight. 

Chibs appreciates the metaphor, his thumb tracing circles against Juice’s hollowed cheeks.

“You and your mouth,” he whispers, stating the obvious, his eyes dark.

Juice chases after the fingers when they get pulled out, sucks on the tips, sticks the tongue out to flicker it along the knuckles. Then Chibs brings them to his hole and rubs softly against the sensitive skin, before pushing inside. 

Juice whimpers, leaning more against the cracked mirror, legs hanging down. Chibs probs around a little, stroking his inner walls, not really stretching him -- just touching -- before he presses them firmly against his prostate. 

Juice instinctively grips Chibs’ forearm with both hands, not really guiding him, just squeezing it, nails digging in.The muscles move smoothly under his fingers as Chibs alternates between soft ticklish rubs and hard pressure. Juice is not sure what wrecks him more. 

He has a prostate stimulator hidden in his drawer at home, Luann gives him one because he “looks the type”, but these days, whenever he’s gets to his own bed, it’s usually with Chibs’ dick up his ass. An appropriate moment to whip it out to mess with the man’s old school brutality never comes, no pun intended. 

He’s sweating like a pig, skin afire, and when he tries to put his foot up to open up more, it slides right off the counter. Chibs laughs, catching it, helping him. He mewls in pure despair when the man’s fingers shift inside him, breaking the contact, and can’t help but sob when it’s found again. He cups himself, cock and balls heavy against his hand, and raises them up, flush against his belly, so they can both watch Chibs’ fingers as they move in and out.

“Gonna crush my bones squeezing me like that,” Chibs chuckles, rubbing his thumb against against the sensitive ring of muscles where it’s stretched around his fingers. 

Juice just shudders, digging his fingers in harder. “Babe, I’m gonna…” and he’s not sure he’s gonna what, he’s never come like this. He doubts it’s even possible. The spreading warmth inside and the fine tremor in his inner thighs downright horrify him. So he cheats a little to level the feeling off, rubbing his thumb against the head of his cock, matching the rhythm of Chibs’ fingers that massage him inside. 

The next moment he bucks so hard that he pulls a muscle in his leg he never knew existed and knocks down the whiskey glass they keep their toothbrushes in. Chibs catches him, teeth grazing his scalp, and holds him tight against his chest as Juice’s hips keep riding it. 

He’s pretty sure he shouts a few times through it, like he’s dying or being born, and he’s never seen so much come shooting out of his dick, ever. He sags against Chibs, boneless, and when the fingers are being pulled out, his vocal chords betray him completely. His dirtiest whimper gets stuck under the ribs, and he just opens his mouth in a muted cry, losing himself. 

He comes to it, listening to the sound of Chibs’ fingers rubbing against the shortest hair on his scalp before he can feel it. He hears the vibrations of the man’s voice -- he talks and talks, muffling it with kisses across Juice’s head and face. 

“What have you done to me?” he croaks. “I have a seventeen-hour-ride with Bobby tomorrow. I’m not even sure I still have an ass.”

He yeps then, because Chibs smacks his thigh, and suddenly his ass -- here it is. 

“You need…”

“Need my pillow,” Chibs mumbles, cock soft against Juice’s palm. “You’re hot and all, Juicy boy, but…”  
“... yeah, old man,” Juice grins, returning the slap as Chibs turn away. 

They limp to the bedroom, hissing as they get under the covers, and it sounds the same even though the reason’s different. Juice goes for a hottest kiss he can manage, and it’s a wet smooch to the man’s ear, saliva and tongue. He’s not awake for long enough for Chibs to laugh at him, passing out forehead to the man’s stubby jaw.


End file.
